


Living, Breathing (Together Perhaps?)

by Not_a_Real_Writer



Category: Captain America
Genre: Bucky comforts, M/M, Nightmares, Not much of a plot, i wrote this at like two in the morning, judge all ya want, just pointing out that Steve needs some healthy coping mechanisms, oh and Sam's here for a lil bit, steve hurts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-07
Updated: 2017-03-07
Packaged: 2018-09-30 16:20:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10166987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Not_a_Real_Writer/pseuds/Not_a_Real_Writer
Summary: Bucky's there for Steve. If only he could see it.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Plz accept my humble offering of a two am induced idea that seemed good at the time  
> Maybe another type of prequel for Reasons to Hope

Crying out, Steve shoots up in bed, shoving a fist into his mouth. Silencing himself. Heart beating faster, breath coming in and out in shuddering gasps, he lurches out of bed and stumbles towards the door.

The dream.

The _nightmare_.

It was already fucking fading, but the _fear_ ; the fear that had clawed it's way into his heart stayed. It made him paranoid. He needed to see that Bucky was okay.

He had … to be quiet. Bucky needed all the sleep he could get.

Shakily, step by step, Steve makes his way to the other man's door. Grasping the handle, he inches the door open; mindful of the squeak the door makes if you open it a certain amount.

Bucky's sleeping form lays still in his bed, save for his steady breathing.

Closing the door, Steve falls to his knees, exhausted. He knows he won't be able to sleep anytime soon, no matter how tired he was. His heart was still pounding, his breathing still ragged, mind reeling; trying to remember why he was so afraid.

Leaning against the closed door, eyes falling shut,his head thunks against the wood. Freezing, he listens.

Nothing.

He sighs, silently curling in on himself.

 _Alone_.

~

 

It's five minutes passed six and Steve still hadn't come to get Bucky. Normally he relished every minute he had left in bed before his day started with a run. Secretly, he liked the runs, he liked the routine they provided. You would never catch him admitting it willingly.

Today though, today something was wrong. Everything was _quiet_. He strained to hear if Steve was in his bathroom getting dressed still, rummaging in the kitchen to grab a snack, _something_.

It was too quiet.

Creeping out of bed, he stealthily opens the door to find a crumpled Steve Rogers at his feet. Asleep. Seeming to be having a bad dream, if his face was any indication.

Crouching down he lightly rubs steady circles into his back. Watches as his furrowed brow smooths out at his touch. Hoisting him up bridal style, Bucky pulls him close. Turning around he heads back to bed.

They wouldn't be running today.

 

Setting him down, he stands and brings the blanket up over his shoulders. Crawling to the other side, he settles in under the covers, and dozes off again to the sound of Steve’s breathing and the silence of the early morning.

~

It was the hitching breath that woke him. Opening his eyes, Bucky looked to the other side of the bed and found Steve practically falling off the edge,minutely clawing at the sheets.

Biting his lip, Bucky grabs his arm and drags him farther into the bed. He didn't wake. He began to groan. To shake.

“Stevie? Steve. Wake up,please? It's just a dream…” he spoke softly, voice growing louder with every other word as he stayed asleep. “ _Steve_!”  
.  
.  
.

_Repeatedly, Steve would dream of falling, of ice, and frigid water, of an impossible future he could have had. Through it all there was always the sound of someone else's screaming in the back of his mind._

_This time he dreamed of his time in the machine. The machine that made him big._

_He was shoved in by faceless people._

_No one said a word._

_It powers on._

_He screams. It hurts, and it won't end, the pain will continue endlessly._

_He becomes aware of the ever present screaming._

_“Steve!”_

~

Lashing out, Steve barely misses hitting Bucky upside the head. Lunging onto the floor, he gets into a fighting stance and waits for any coming blow, eyes open; unseeing.

Crawling towards him slowly, Bucky steps out of bed.

He tenses.

“Stevie?” he steps closer. Moves even closer still after a beat of silence, arms outstretched. He let's him. Softly resting his palms against his arms, he waits for any sort of reaction. Nothing. He guides them down until they're resting limp by his sides.

He says his name again, and gets a furrowed brow in return. His eyes were still far away.

Cupping his face, Bucky begins to speak. About anything that came to mind, interspersing his name once in awhile to get his attention. He's uttering nonsense into the quiet of the room, random memories, their day plans,it didn't matter, but it seemed to be working; so he didn't stop.

Five minutes.

Ten.

He blinks. Focuses his eyes on Bucky. Reaching up, he grasps his arms; hands still cupping his face, as if trying to keep him from letting go. He rubs his cheek with his thumb.

“Hey.” he whispers softly.

“Hello.” is his shaky reply.

Silently Bucky leads them back into bed, rearranging them until he's leaning against the headboard with Steve’s head in his lap.

“This alright?”

“Mhm.”

He cards his fingers through Steve’s hair. Gently following the curve of his head, he repeats the gesture. Steve hums in response. He's still shaking. His pulse racing under his gently sweeping fingertips.

“Do you wanna to talk about it?”

He freezes, body finally still; but his _heart_ , his heart was beating faster than ever.

“No.”

Bucky purses his lips but doesn't push.

“I don't even remember all of it.” he says.

Bucky waits.

“It was… mostly about the machine that made me..big? Made me strong.”, he stops and brings his hands to rest in front of his face, some days he was still bewildered that he could be so changed, “Except I didn't want to get in this time”, he pauses, “There was screaming.” he says finally. ‘Your screaming.’ he thinks.

“I just.. want to go back to sleep.” As he says it he realizes just how drained he feels. This isn't the first or last time he'd wake up jittery and afraid.

“Then sleep, I'll keep watch.”

Steve can't see his face, barely processes his words, doesn't fight him on how he won't be able to fall asleep comfortably in the position they're in. He simply drifts.

He does not dream a dream worth remembering. Worth fearing. He sleeps and later on when he wakes, exhaustion does not feel so much like a second skin.

 

For now, all the while, Bucky watches over him as promised.

 

~

 

They don't talk about it. ‘ _Why would you?_ ’ Steve thinks. The thought sounds sarcastic...and a bit like Sam.

~

 

He gets better at hiding how sometimes he wakes up at night to stifling silence. Learns to be quieter, and how to pull himself together faster so that he doesn't bother Bucky again. He's guilty for… for interrupting his sleep. There's something else that's bothering him about Bucky knowing about his nightmares, something he doesn't want to inspect too closely.

He's even more tired than ever. If anything the dreams just seem to be getting worse.

~

‘Maybe they're not, maybe because you slept well, they seem worse than before by compariso-’

“Find the answer you’re looking for?”, says a cheery voice from behind him.

‘ _What_?’

“What?”, he turns and there's Bucky, getting some orange juice from the fridge. Something’s wrong. He's being cautious, moving slower, trying to examine him subtly over the rim of his glass.

“You were staring pretty intently into your cereal for-”, he cuts himself off, takes another sip.

Steve musters up a smile, “Not quite awake yet, just about convinced myself that the secret to the universe is in here somewhere,” he jokes, gesturing to the bowl of now soggy cereal.

They sit in silence for a moment.

He stands abruptly. Throws the cereal out, tosses his bowl and spoon in the sink; and walks away, mumbling something about seeing Sam.

 

~

 

Knocking on his door, Sam took one look at him and said, “You look like shit, and we both need coffee for the conversation we're about to have.”

Hustling Steve inside, Sam was as gracious a host as ever and settled them both comfortably on his couch with enough coffee for ten people.

He takes a sip. Let's the silence draw out for a minute, quietly observing Steve closer. It’s not uncomfortable. Silence with Sam always seemed thoughtful.

“Spill,” he finally says with a nod, non-judgmental, knowing that he has some things to say.

Steve just shrugs nonchalantly, “I haven't been sleeping lately. Nightmares.” A frustrated huff. Cuts to what's on his mind. “I slept with Bucky... well he wasn't sleeping I don't think, he said he'd watch over me and had me lay my head in his lap and-” he gives a small cough, “yeah.”

Sam just smiles openly and asks, “Did you sleep well with him?”

“Yeah, but now I can't seem to sleep at all I'm -,” rubbing his head, he sighs, “I'm just tired Sam.” He gives a weary smile.

“Why don't you just sleep with him again?”

For a minute Steve forgets the why nots, and briefly entertains the idea. For a minute.

Shaking his head, he answers, “I can't Sam, I can't keep bothering him, or-”

He holds up a hand. “Let me reiterate my earlier statement… you look like shit. Just talk to the guy, worst thing that could happen is he says no.”

Steve snorts, “Worst thing that could happen is that he says no, hates my soul, is disgusted by me and wants to leave; never to return.”

Sam blinks. “You, my friend, are dark when you're tired.”

Steve just shrugs. His movement saying, I could've told you that.

“Look if he does end up saying no(which I doubt, but I won't deny, it is a possibility), then I'll help you find a way to get some sleep; with aromatherapy candles and all that jazz.” he sits back looking thoughtful. Raises an eyebrow.

“I'll think about it.”

“Steve Rogers code for, I'll do it at the end of the day at the very last possible moment.” he says with a grin.

Steve just rolls his eyes, and gulps down his neglected coffee to hide his small smile.

~

 

Steve hadn't meant to wait till the end of the day, he really hadn't. Except. The second he got home Bucky was watching him like a hawk. Just waiting for him to say what was on his mind, and really, he just wasn't getting a lot of sleep; it wasn't a big deal. It could wait. And it could wait. And it could wait.

All day.

And now here he is dressed and ready for bed, standing in front of Bucky's closed door and-

He can't do it.

He doesn't need to.

He's fine.

He turns away.

The door creaks open. And before he can do anything, a hand wraps itself around his wrist; and he's helpless to do anything but stumble into the room.

He's pushed onto the bed, and for a second, he's blinking up at the ceiling confused; before he pulls himself together again and sits up. There is an angry Bucky. Standing just in front of him with his arms crossed and eyebrow raised, waiting for an explanation from Steve. Who in turn smiles sheepishly.

“I was just headin to bed?” It comes out like a shaky question, and Steve wished that he could sound more in control for a few minutes longer. Just enough time to slip into his room and close the door. “What's up?”

He tenses, “You tell me,” he says tursley, “You just seem to have a lot on your mind lately.” His eyes flash with worry for a second, and then he sags, moving to the empty space besides Steve. “Look, if you don't want to talk to me, I get it; but you can't keep bottling up what's bothering you Stevie. A blind man could see that somethin’s eatin you.”

“I'm sorry to worry you… I- nothings wrong,” he shrugs, “I just haven't been sleeping so well, that's all.” They're both staring at the opposite wall.

After hearing this Bucky tenses.

“I'm just a little tired Buck, I'm fine.” he tries to reassure.

“Steve it takes days for you to get a little sleepy, you looked about ready to drop this morning...something has to be bothering you, something is.”

They sit in silence, the moment stretches.

Screw it.

“Can I sleep with you?”

Any other time, any other time at all; and Steve would feel embarrassed, guilty, nervous at finally having asked but-... He's said it once, he'll say it a thousand times.

“I'm tired.”

Under Bucky's gaze, Steve felt small.

Bucky must've seen something, because gradually his worried demeanor intensifies, softens. He nudges Steve to lie down.

A small voice in his head is annoyed at being coddled, at worrying Bucky so much over something that doesn't matter. A small voice. Distantly he's aware that he shouldn't be letting Bucky set him up in his bed, combing his fingers through his hair. He listens to the voice telling him to just do as Bucky does.

Quietly, Bucky crawls into the bed behind him; a few scant inches between them. Softly setting his hand over his stomach, he asks one more time, “What's wrong?”

A deep breath. A slow exhalation that leaves him relaxing into the mattress under his touch.

“Nightmares.”

Whatever the reason Bucky had for leaving space between them was, it was swiftly pushed aside at his answer. Pulling him flush against his chest, Bucky curves protectively around him. A shield against the world. He understands.

Hovering between sleep and wakefulness, Steve almost misses the words he mumbles into his scalp. “You can't keep soldiering on like this Stevie, it- I want to help. I'm selfish for the sight of your smile, the sound of your laugh. If something like this eats at you for too long-...you can't keep it in. No more, I hope you know I'm there for you, if not me then there are other people that care. They can see the man under the mantle you know. The man you are.”

Feeling the words hang in the air, Bucky hopes that he heard, and that the message got through to him. Eventually, he succumbs to the silence, and sleeps. They had a lot to talk about in the morning.


End file.
